


Your Life Is...

by Nyodrite



Series: Your Life Is Your Life. [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (it's the Wizarding World Harry), 1500 words on buying a trunk (and some), Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Countdown to Hogwarts, Different Wand, Gen, Harry believes someone is stalking him, Harry gets more presents, Harry offers tributes to cupboard spiders, He also manages to instigate a block party, He also really likes the zoo, It Bassiaclly sums to: None of them are better or worse then the others, Kinda Oblivious Harry Potter, Madam Malkin has strong opinions about the Houses, Modern Era, Original Character(s), RIP: Dormouse, Ravenclaw Madam Malkin, Ravenclaws: the willingness to seek the truth of things no matter what., SI/OC Harry Potter, Self-Insert, Welcome to Diagon Alley, on a COMPLETELY UNRELATED NOTE; an owl gets fed, various movies are watched
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9527516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyodrite/pseuds/Nyodrite
Summary: "Maybe I'm not the brave Gryffindor you expected me to be, but that doesn't somehow make me'less'. It's notmyfault you created an image of someone whodoesn't exist." Harry said, "So,fuck you, this ismy lifeand I'm not going to letyoudictate howIlive it."The words came out strong, as if he hadn't had been uncertain or doubtful of his choice, as if he wasn't thinking,Not that Ishouldexist.





	1. Realization: I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! _'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive-’_ ”
> 
> With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, but Harry was frozen in his seat in shock until his aunt hissed, “Go to your room!”
> 
> Harry sat on his bed, absently flipping through pages of one of the books- _No More Dead Dogs_ \- as he thought.
> 
>  _A letter, it was a letter for me that angered my uncle_. He realized, _but who would send me a letter and why would it anger Uncle Vernon so much?_
> 
>  _...and why…_ Harry thought, something like irritated horror building in his stomach. _Do they know which room is mine?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An SI/OC Main Character with kinda dismal knowledge of the series they're now a part of because I wanted to poke at Harry Potter like I am _Fairy Tail_.

 

**Realization**

** _**June  - September 2010** _ **

 

 

I: The Boy Called Harry

_ June 23 - July 25, 2010  _

* * *

* * *

“Up! Get up! Now!”

Harry hissed softly to himself, pulling his -rather pathetic- pillow over his head to block out his aunt’s voice as she rapped on his door and screeched once more, “Up!”

He waited until he heard her go into the kitchen and a frying pan be placed onto the stove before letting himself voice his displeasure, “Oh, yeah, sure, who doesn’t love a banshee waking them up- what a lovely way to start the day...”

He got up though, it wasn’t worth the abuse his ears would earn to try and rest a little more since his aunt would- “Are you up yet?” she demanded- be coming back.

“Almost!” Harry called, flicking a spider off one of the sock he found under his bed.

He had an odd relationship with spiders, they were around frequently due to him living in a cupboard so he mostly tolerated them but he’d flick them away if they got too close to him or were on anything that he wanted. It was probably silly, but he ensured their goodwill by occasionally capturing a beetle of some sort and depositing it on one of the various webs they’d built.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry let out a soft, irritated huff as he tugged his socks on. Dudley’s birthday, how could he have forgotten- it wasn’t like each of the Dursleys had been chattering about it since the beginning of the month…

Once dressed, he went to the kitchen, though he took a moment to appreciate actual light beyond whatever passed through the door’s cracks, and shot the table- overflowing with the birthday boy’s presents, from computer to television-  a disgruntled look. There was even a _racing bike_ next to the table, regardless that Dudley hated any form of exercise that didn’t include hitting someone smaller then him.

Like Harry, who was small and skinny for his age- looking more so with his clothes being hand-me-downs from Dudley- with a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, bright green eyes, a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning and wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape.

(The scar, coupled with the glasses, irritated him a bit because it kind of _tickled_ at his memory as if it were connected to something he couldn’t remember.)

Grease crackled and popped, drawing his attention to the bacon and Harry started flipping it; for all that the Dursleys bullied him into doing chores, Harry really didn’t mind cooking because it reminded him of-

“Comb your hair!" his Uncle Vernon barked, by way of a morning greeting as the man entered the kitchen.

This was a frequent occurrence that required no acknowledgement; in fact, once a week, his uncle would declare his need of a haircut and his aunt would come at him with a pair of scissors. It made no difference, his hair simply grew that way - all over the place- and did so _quickly_ , enough for it to be a weekly occurrence.

It was while he was frying eggs that his aunt and cousin entered the kitchen; his cousin looked a lot like Uncle Vernon with a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.

Aunt Petunia said that Dudley looked like an angel but, honestly, he looked like a pig with a wig to Harry.

He put the plates of eggs and bacon on the table, despite how little room there was, whilst Dudley counted his presents, face falling. "Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

“Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy.”

“All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face. Sensing an imminent tantrum, Harry started wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, “And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?”

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a DVD player. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

While Dudley’s mouth fell in horror, Harry’s heart sped in excitement because every year the Dursleys went out for the day with a friend of Dudley’s while he was left behind with Mrs. Figg- a crazy cat lady with a house that smelled like cabbage and made him look at pictures of all her cats. He _hated_ it there.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this.

Intellectually, Harry knew he _should_ feel sorry about Mrs. Figg breaking her leg but he found his empathy withered when he remembered that he wouldn’t need to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again for another year. Also, this year the Dursleys were going to the _zoo_.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there or as if he couldn’t understand what they were saying about him.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend -- Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave me here," Harry pointed out, hoping for a chance to go on Dudley’s computer while they were away. If he _had_ to be left behind while they all went to the zoo- went to see _wolves_ and _lions_ and _foxes_ and all kinds of wonderful animals- then he at least wanted the opportunity to go on the internet.

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave him in the car...."

 _Please, please, please!_ Harry chanted internally, staring down at the table in what he hoped was a suitably subdued manner.

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone...."

 _Yes-..!_ he cheered, silently gathering up the dirty dishes. If he didn’t give them anything to get upset over, then the possibility of him _going to the zoo_ would grow- just a bit. Maybe.

Dudley began to cry loudly, he wasn’t _really_ crying- it had been years since he'd really cried- but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang -- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically -- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life and desperately trying to seem less excited about the situation and more cowed as Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside before they’d left.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy -any funny business, anything at all- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," Harry defended but it was ineffectual, given his uncle didn’t believe him- not that anyone ever did.

It was because strange things happened around Harry; once, Aunt Petunia had cut his hair bald except for his bangs- to hide his scar- only for it to be exactly as it was the next day. Another time, his aunt tried forcing him into a horrible old sweater of Dudley’s but the harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it grew until it was about the size of a hand puppet’s- his aunt had decided that it must have shrunken in the wash, though so he wasn’t punished. He did, however, get in trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens when Dudley’s gang was chasing him once.

Today, though, Harry was determined to be good and very much hoped no strange things happened to cut the visit to the zoo short.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

“I had a dream about a motorcycle,” Harry remembered, biting down the rest of it though he thought it, _It flew._

Uncle Vernon snorted derisively, “Of course _you’d_ have a dream of one.” But, given that he did say about how it acted _unnatural_ , that was it even if Dudley and Piers laughed at him.

It, being a sunny Saturday, was crowded with families at the zoo and the Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop.

 _It was_ , Harry thought as he quietly followed the four to the Gorilla- they look very much like Dudley though with less blond- Enclosure, _actually pretty tasty._

He spent as much time as he could savoring the ice pop, following a bit away from the Dursleys so he would come to their attention, and trying to imprint the entire experience into his memory since he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be allowed back for a _long_ while. Harry dutifully read the information plaques of the animals he was interested in- he was, perhaps inappropriately, amused about the coyote named ‘Wiley’- and asked questions whenever a zookeeper was nearby.

 _That_ was a difficult task, asking questions when the Dursleys were far away enough not to hear yet close enough that the keeper wouldn’t try to ‘escort’ him to his family and thus get him in trouble, but he managed.

They ate in the zoo restaurant (tiger-themed), and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first. Afterwards, they went to the reptile house where all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone behind their glass enclosures.

Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons and Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can, not that it looked as if it would at the moment- it was asleep actually.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils and whined at his father, "Make it move."

Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned before shuffling away.

Harry moved in front of the glass, peering intently at the snake and feeling great sympathy for it- if _he_ lived in a glass cage and had to deal with people gawking at him and annoying him by tapping the glass, he’d go bonkers for sure.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

It _winked_.

Harry stared- he didn’t even know if snakes _could_ wink. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching but they weren't so he looked back at the snake and winked too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: _I get that all the time._

"It must be really annoying." Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him.

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

**Boa Constrictor, Brazil. This specimen was bred in the zoo.**

“Oh, have you thought about going there? To Brazil, I mean?” He wondered and the snake nodded vigorously once more.

A deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could. "Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs.

Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor and what came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened- one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, _"Brazil, here I come.... Thanksss, amigo."_

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. "But the glass," he kept saying, "Where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber even though, as far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed- by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death.

Worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry, he was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go- cupboard- stay- no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Later, Harry was wishing for a watch because he could sneak out to the kitchen for food until he was sure the Dursleys were all asleep.

Ten years, well _almost_ , he’d lived with the Dursleys; ten miserable years of living in a cupboard with too little food and too much chores and too many punishments while at school he was orchestrated because everyone knew Dudley’s gang _hated_ him and no one else wanted to become a target.

When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened.

 _And it never will,_ Harry thought, not really angry but more resigned.

But, hey, if his hard work paid off, then he’d get a scholarship to a boarding school and deal with the Dursleys for only a couple of months throughout the year until he was the age of majority.

* * *

 

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment; by the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

As glad as Harry was that school was out, it meant that Dudley’s gang were free to visit all times of day and partake in their favorite hobby: Harry Hunting.

His solution? Be out of the house as often as possible.

July 16, the day after Dudley knocked over Mrs. Figg, took the opportunity to explore farther then he had previous summers and spent much of the day eating free samples at a larger market a few streets beyond Mrs. Figg’s house. The next day, after a mid-morning snack of free samples to supplement missing breakfast to avoid the Dursleys, Harry found a public library three streets in the opposite direction of the market with a park not too far off.

July 18 gave birth to how he spent his days; leaving the Dursleys’ early and taking breakfast in the form of free samples at the market, holing up in the library until hunger pulled him away from whatever he was reading for another round of free samples and spending the afternoon at the park- making a few tentative friends- before heading back to the Dursleys’ in time to make dinner.

It was the makings of a perfect summer; even being sent to Mrs. Figg's while his aunt took Dudley to buy his Smeltings uniform on July 23 didn’t hamper it since she fed him chocolate cake- albeit stale- and let him spend the day watching Boomerang (which consisted of Looney Toons, Tom and Jerry with a few appearances of DreamWorks Dragons).

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform; Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking- this was supposed to be good training for later life, for what, Harry had no idea.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life while Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up.

Harry had to chew on his tongue to keep himself from laughing, even so, he imagined that he broke a rib or two trying to suppress his laughter at her comment.

The next morning was also a deviation from his routine when he woke to find his Aunt Petunia already up, stirring a foul-smelling concoction of dirty rags and grey water. He had to pause and ask, “What’s this?”

Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question. "Your new school uniform," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again. "Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue and left the house without further comment. While he had his usual free-sample breakfast, he missed his lunch when the book he was reading- _Warriors: Into the Wild_ by Erin Hunter- drew him in enough that he _had_ to finish it before he put it down and left the library.

He did make it back to the Dursleys in time, but that seemed not to matter to Uncle Vernon, who seemed angry for some unknown reason, snapping, “Take your stuff to Dudley’s second bedroom.”

“What? Why?” Harry asked, bewildered.

His uncle’s face, already red, turned purple. “Don’t ask questions! And you’re not to go wandering off like you’ve been- who knows what trouble you’ve been up to…”

He opened his mouth to say something- to argue because, maybe he ate a bit too many free samples but he hadn’t done anything _wrong_ \- but snapped it closed once more, obediently moving his things even as he heard Dudley bawling to Aunt Petunia. With any luck, whatever angered his uncle would blow over before summer ended and he’d be able to re-establish his routine.

For now, there was an entire shelves of practically new books for him to occupy his time.

The next morning, breakfast was quiet. Dudley was in shock; he'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly, Harry was trying to think of anything he’d done to anger his uncle but came up blank.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! _'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive-’_ ”

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, but Harry was frozen in his seat in shock until his aunt hissed, “Go to your room!”

Harry sat on his bed, absently flipping through pages of one of the books- _No More Dead Dogs_ \- as he thought.

 _A letter, it was a letter for me that angered my uncle_. He realized, _but who would send me a letter and why would it anger Uncle Vernon so much?_

 _...and why…_ Harry thought, something like irritated horror building in his stomach. _Do they know which room is mine?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is everything twenty-ish years later, you ask? For various reasons, many of them spoilery, but one is this: due to the series' that are released after the time Canon took place which would have an impact- minor or major- on the Main Character.
> 
>  
> 
> **For Omakes go[ _here_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9588884/chapters/21676190).**


	2. Realization: II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "That this boy- _this boy!_ \- knows nothin' abou'- about ANYTHING?"
> 
>  _Well,_ Harry thought as the Dursleys cowered, _that’s entirely unfair...and insulting to the general education system…_
> 
> “I know things,” He said defensively, “Math, science, history- I even know how to cook!”
> 
> But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."
> 
> Harry blinked, "What world?"
> 
>  _You say it like they’re from an entirely different world…_ he squinted, a thought occurring, _My parents...they’re not...they’re not_ aliens _, right?_

II: To Turn Eleven

_July 31, 2010_

* * *

* * *

 

Someone was stalking him, Harry was sure of it.

Maybe he’d be able to dismiss the dozens of letters- even if they _did_ have his bedroom as part of the address- over the last few days as an overly diligent sender of a very important letter (though the only kind of letter that he could think would be so important to be sent to _him_ repeatedly would be if some school had accepted him for a scholarship but even then they’d just _call_ after a bit) if it weren’t for the fact that- allegedly- a hundred were sent to him as they were at a hotel, far from Surrey and the Dursleys’ house.

A shiver wracked his body and Harry tried to curl up tighter beneath his thin, threadbare blanket and sink into the floor for warmth. It didn’t work, his blanket didn’t suddenly grow warmer nor did he suddenly gain the ability to melt into the floor. Harry did, however, remember that he was wearing Dudley’s old things and tucked his limbs into the large shirt to act as a kind of second blanket as he stared blankly at the small amount of light his cousin’s watch gave off.

Six minutes until midnight, until Harry’s birthday.

Another shiver hit him and he tucked his head beneath the shirt collar and puffed out large breaths of warm air until he felt just a slightest bit warmer, ignoring the noises of the storm. By the time Harry had adjusted his head so he could look at the watch once more, though he kept his nose and mouth covered by the blanket, it was nearly at the one minute mark.

 _I wonder if there will be letters at the Dursleys,_ he thought as he placidly watched the seconds count down to one minute then beyond. _Maybe,_ Harry continued- _45 seconds_ \- with amusement quirking his mouth, _we’ll return to the house bursting with letters._

 _Ten,_ he noted, abruptly reminded of a New Year's countdown. Which, in a way, could be true since _Harry_ would be entering a new year as an eleven year old. _Five...four...three...two...one…_

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry bolted upright, limbs hitting the ground roughly as he hurriedly pulled them out of the shirt, to stare at the door.

Someone-...someone was outside, knocking to come in.

 _Who,_ Harry thought furiously as he scrambled to hide behind the couch, _would visit_ here _during a storm!?_

BOOM.

They had knocked again, this time waking Dudley who, stupidly, asked, “Where’s the cannon?”

A crash from behind had Harry whirling, finding his uncle skidding into the room with a rifle in his hands, shouting, “Who’s there? I warn you- I’m armed!”

A pause, Harry slowly turned back to the door- tried not to feel anxious about his uncle with a gun- and wondered if whoever it was had left-

_SMASH!_

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor, revealing a giant; his face was  almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

He squeezed into the hut, having to stoop so he wouldn’t hit his head, bending down to pick up the door and put it back into it’s frame with ease. The storm’s noise lowered slightly and the man, satisfied with the door, turned to look at them, "Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear. "Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Really, Harry should have been more worried- _terrified_ \- but the only thing that was running through his head was an amused, _rude…_

Dudley, obviously having better survival instincts, scurried away to hide behind Aunt Petunia, who was crouched behind Uncle Vernon. Of course, this just drew the giant’s attention to _him_ , “An’ here’s Harry!”

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. Suddenly, _ludicrously_ , Harry wished for a spider, _he_ _knows my name!_

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. “I demand that you leave at once, sit!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

 _Giant equals +20 strength…_ Harry thought, suddenly, while Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway- Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box that Harry took and opened with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry_ written on it in green icing.

He couldn’t help himself, he swiped a side and stuck the chocolate-coated finger in his mouth and tried not to moan at the taste, _so much better then Mrs. Figg’s..._

Eventually, Harry had to look at the giant; he wanted to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

 _Hagrid…_ the name hit like a punch to the gut, like something he should _know_ but couldn’t quite grasp.

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm. "What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted, bending down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant- Hagrid- sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little.

Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly. "Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything (and as he was finished with the sausages), he said, "I'm sorry, but I still have no idea who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Call me Hagrid," he said, "Everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.”

 _Hogwarts, Hogwarts-_ it was familiar, startlingly so, but he didn’t- “No.” Harry answered, “I don’t.”

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, wondering if he had amnesia of some kind.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "That this boy- _this boy!_ \- knows nothin' abou'- about ANYTHING?"

 _Well,_ Harry thought as the Dursleys cowered, _that’s entirely unfair...and insulting to the general education system…_

“I know things,” He said defensively, “Math, science, history- I even know how to cook!”

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

Harry blinked, "What world?"

 _You say it like they’re from an entirely different world…_ he squinted, a thought occurring, _My parents...they’re not...they’re not_ aliens _, right?_

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode, booming, "DURSLEY!"

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? No..no that can’t be," Harry denied then wondered, “Can it?”

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare. "Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage. "You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry- yer a wizard."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"-a what?" gasped Harry but, internally, there was a chant of, _should know this._

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "An' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry accepted the yellowish envelope, taking in the purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms- a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H- before turning over to, briefly, frown at the emerald green address: _Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea_.

 **_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_ ** , the letter read. **_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_ **

**_Dear Mr. Potter,_ **

**_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._ **

**_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,_ **

**_Minerva McGonagall,_ **

**_Deputy Headmistress_ **

Harry stared at the writing, the sense of _not real!_ screamed at him but all he said was, “What do they mean by ‘await your owl’?”

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

**_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_ **

**_Given Harry his letter._ **

**_Taking him to buy his things tomorrow._ **

**_Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well._ **

**_Hagrid_ **

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry stared, _who...who keeps an OWL in their pocket!?_

Hagrid, apparently, who just asked, "Where was I?"

At that same moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight. "He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, wondering if he should clean out his ears, _what does a moogle have to do with my uncle?_

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "It's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "Swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" Harry murmured, quiet despite the rage that simmered. “You _knew_ I was a wizard?”

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frogspawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily _this_ and Lily _that,_ they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years. "Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as- as- abnormal- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry hissed a breath, the rage draining out of him like air in a popped balloon, " _Blown up_? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

 _Every kid knows my name,_ he wondered, stomach clenching, _does that mean I’m famous? To an entire group of people I’ve never_ met _?_

The anger faded from Hagrid's face and he looked suddenly anxious, "I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh- but someone’s gotta- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys. "Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it...."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with- with a person called- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows-"

"Who?" Harry insisted.

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

" _Why not?_ " He demanded, frustrated.

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..." Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right- _Voldemort_. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches...terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.”

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.” Hagrid continued.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em...maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an'- an'-" Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em.” Hagrid went on, “An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

 _I should know this,_ Harry realized, _so why don’t I?_

Hagrid was watching him sadly. "Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon, who seemed to have got back his courage- he was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched. "Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end-"

At that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you- one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them. "But what happened to Vol-, err- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful- why'd he go?” Hagrid shook his head.

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.” Hagrid shrugged as if to emphasize his point.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on- I dunno what it was, no one does- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right." Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes.

Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt as if something had carved out his stomach. _Every kid knows my name,_ he thought in mute horror, _and likely every adult too. A hero- they- they made me out as a_ hero _-_

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

 _Or, at least, not the wizard you’re all expecting._ Harry thought.

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

 _All those strange things that happened- that the Dursleys punished me for,_ he realized, _And the boa constrictor- I really talked to it…_

Harry looked back at Hagrid and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him. "See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight. "Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish- spell books and wands and-"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, " _NEVER,_ " he thundered, "- _INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF-_ **_ME!_ ** "

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared, pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. "Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows. "Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm- er- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job”

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry, he didn’t _disapprove_ of how it was used but if there was an important- a _dangerous_ \- reason for Hagrid not to use magic, then he’d like to know.

"Oh, well- I was at Hogwarts meself but I- er- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

Harry ignored the majority of that for the important bit, "Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry. "You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

 _Dormice?_ Harry mouth once he turned around, eying the coat dubiously. He spread the blanket he _had_ been using across a spot on the floor to act like a sheet and settled on it, tugging the coat over him and listening to the coach squeak in protest as Hagrid settled on it.

 _It’s warm…_ he thought, happily as he drifted.

* * *

 

Tapping woke him, for a moment Harry thought it had all been a dream, then the coat wriggled a bit due to one of the dormice and he knew that it- Hagrid, the story of his parents’ death, the letter, learning he was a wizard- was all real. For a moment, he laid there under that giant, wriggling coat and reveled in the fact that magic was _real_ \- that he was probably leaving the Dursleys.

Tap. Tap. _Tap_.

He grabbed hold of the coat and stood, the bottom of the coat still on the floor as he looked around; the hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

“Hagrid-” Harry hissed, prodding the man when it did nothing, “ _Hagrid!_ ”

Tap. _Tap_. TAP.

“Hagrid!” he finally called loudly, worried the bird would break the window. “There’s an owl at the window!”

“Let ‘im in,” Hagrid told him, “An’ pay ‘im.”

Harry, who had been headed for the window, paused, “What?”

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." the man said, voice muffled by the arm resting on his face.

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags- the _dormice_... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins. “I found...er...coins!”

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

Harry blinked at the coins, hoping they’d explain. Rudely, they did not. "Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones.” Hagrid answered.

He counted out five bronze coins, dumped the extra back into the pocket he found them and, after a moment of thought, grabbed one of the dormice by it’s tail before opening the window. The owl flew to drop the newspaper on Hagrid before resting on the windowsill, mouth open and a leg with a leather pouch held out for.

Harry hesitated a moment, the mouse squirming frantically, before gently depositing the mouse in the owl’s mouth- the rodent squeaked and squealed  before silencing with a _crack!_ as the beak snapped close- and tucking the coins into the pouch. The owl took a moment to swallow the- now still and silent and likely _dead_ \- mouse before taking off, disappearing into the distance.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched. "Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

It was as Hagrid was pulling on his boots that Harry realized it, “I don’t have any money and the Dursleys won’t pay for me to learn magic…”

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed-" he frowned.

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither." Hagrid said.

He blinked, "Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins." Hagrid told him, taking back the coat and digging through it before offering him a few sausages for breakfast.

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding. "Goblins?"

"Yeah- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore.” Hagrid added,  “Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts -knows he can trust me, see.” Then, looking at him, asked, "Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry followed the man out the hut, onto the rock and saw only the boat Uncle Vernon had rented- now with water filling the bottom- and wondered, “How’d you get here?”

“Flew,” Hagrid told him absently, grabbing the boat and tilting out the water.

He gaped as the boat was placed back in the water, “ _Flew_?”

"Yeah- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh." Hagrid answered, gesturing for him to climb in.

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying- he got an absurd image of the other in a Superman costume.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter- er- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," he agreed, curious about magic.

Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

He fell silent as the other read, having long-since learned not to bother someone reading the paper, preoccupying himself with trying to peer into the water and see a fish. Harry thought he _might_ have seen some but, then, it could have just been shadows caused by the boat and waves. Nonetheless, he amused himself with imagining a school of darkly-colored fish, obviously the ultra rare and secret _ninja_ fish, following them like guards.

It startled him a bit when Hagrid, while turning a page, muttered, "Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual."

“ _Ministry of Magic_ ,” Harry blurted before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o'course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?" He pressed, now that it seemed like he could ask questions despite the paper.

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country." Hagrid answered.

"Why?" he wondered.

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone." Hagrid told him.

 _That…_ Harry thought back to when he was younger and he tried helping Dudley with classwork, of how Dudley refused simply because it was _him_ , of the Dursleys and their reaction to magic. _That’s not right. Maybe some would but...not everyone._

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station and Harry couldn't blame them since not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "Did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd _like_ one?" he hissed with what breath he had, internally swearing to start running or _something_ so he would be winded trying to keep pace with the man.

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid- here we go." Oh, of course, because every child dreams about their first dragon...

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train; Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. "Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket. "Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

He opened the second paper he’d ignored earlier and read it silently. **_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_ **

**_UNIFORM_ **

**_First-year students will require:_ **

  1. **_Three sets of plain work robes (black)_**
  2. **_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_**
  3. **_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_**
  4. **_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_**



**_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_ **

**_COURSE BOOKS_ **

**_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_ **

  1. **_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_**
  2. **_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_**
  3. **_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_**
  4. **_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch_**
  5. **_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_**
  6. **_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_**
  7. **_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_**
  8. **_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_**



**_OTHER EQUIPMENT_ **

  1. **_wand_**
  2. **_cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set_**
  3. **_glass or crystal phials_**
  4. **_telescope set_**
  5. **_brass scales_**


  * **_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_**



**_PARENTS ARE-_ **

“Can we even find this all in London?” Harry asked.

“O’course, if yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

He’d never been to London before, the Dursleys never saw a reason to endure the journey with him, and, though Hagrid clearly knew where he was going, he wasn’t used to going about thing the normal- he got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow, even saying while they climbed up the broken-down escalator leading to a bustling road lined with shops "I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic"- so there were a few moments where they simply stalled, waiting for Hagrid to convert his magical directions to muggle ones.

They passed cinemas, hamburger restaurants, music store and- which he took special note of- book shops easily with Hagrid parting the crowd and Harry walking behind him but there was nothing that seemed _magical_.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub and, if Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it, in fact, their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all and Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it.

Hagrid had steered him inside before he thought to ask about it.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby; a few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry- one of them was smoking a long pipe- and a little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in.

Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this- can this be-?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, _welcome back_."

Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry’s stomach turned, _‘yer famous’_ he recalled.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

Harry shook hands again and again -Doris Crockford kept coming back for more- and hoped that his rising nausea wasn’t obvious. _All I did was survive my parents being murdered,_ he wanted to shout at them, _that’s not heroic or worth praise- I was a baby! My survival would be due to my parents!_

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "C-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" he asked, trying not to think of how cold and sweaty the man’s hand was.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

Then, the crowd descended once more until, ten minutes later, Hagrid finally managed to make himself heard over them, "Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."

One of the people- Doris Crockford?- darted forwards to shake Harry’s hand one last time before Hagrid lead led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" he wondered, glancing back to the bar.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now,” Hagrid said, switching topics, “Where's me umbrella?"

 _Vampires and a hag,_ Harry mused, _I wonder what kind of things they’re capable of to cause such terror in a professor? Or is it just that he’d only_ studied _them rather then have any personal experience?_

"Three up... two across.” Hagrid’s mutters drew his attention and he found the man counting bricks on the part of the wall above the trashcan. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella and the brick he had touched quivered- it _wriggled_ , like the caught dormouse Harry gave the owl- in the middle, a small hole appeared- it grew wider and wider and a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

 _Is it set at that size?_ Harry wondered, absently as his eyes darted around to see what he could of what was beyond the arch- the sun shined brightly on a shop with cauldrons outside it (they were all sizes with brass, copper, pewter and silver, with self-stirring and collapsible ones according to a sign) and he raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare they gave off. _Or is it that_ Hagrid _opened it so it’s that large?_

"Welcome," said Hagrid with a grin as they stepped through the archway, he glanced back to see the arch shrink into a solid wall again. "To Diagon Alley."


	3. Realization: III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now see here, Hagrid,” Madam Malkin scowled suddenly, the giant looked startled. “There’s no need to be putting that kind of nonsense into the boy’s head!” She looked at him, face softening. “These days _everyone_ has opinions of the Hogwarts Houses- be they good or ill- but don’t you go letting them affect your opinion, there’s _never_ a good reason for prejudice-” She broke off to scowl at Hagrid once more, “I’d have thought _you_ of all people would understand _that_ , Hagrid.”
> 
> Harry had the dubious pleasure of Hagrid flushing red and shift about like a sheepish child caught doing what they weren’t supposed to be doing, muttering an excuse before heading outside.
> 
> Madam Malkin nodded, satisfied with her scolding, before looking at him once more, “When you go to Hogwarts, the first thing that’ll happen is that you’ll be sorted into different Houses- now don’t you ask _how_ you’ll be sorted because that’s a secret that you’ll be finding out yourself. There are four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. _None of them are better or worse then the others._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want Harry's cloaks. Also, Harry eats my favorite ice cream. That's all.

III: Diagon Alley

_July 31, 2010_

* * *

* * *

 

“You’ll be needin’ a cauldron, o’course,” Hagrid told him, leading them past the shop. “But we gotta get yer money first.”

 _More eyes,_ Harry thought, head swinging to try and look at all the different things( owls, broomsticks, an Apothecary, robes, telescopes, spell books, quills, parchments, potion bottles, globes of the _moon_ ). _More eyes would be good right now._

“Gringotts,” Hagrid said when they reached a snowy white building towing over the shops, beside the doors- a burnished bronze- was a goblin (identified by Hagrid’s comment of, “That’s a goblin, ‘Arry.”). It was wearing a scarlet and gold uniform, was shorter then Harry by a head with a pointed beard, a clever-looking face, _very_ long fingers and feet.

It bowed as they walking inside and he nearly tripped in his attempt to bow back- that was the polite thing, right? Maybe, he had no idea what to do when someone _bowed_ to him.

There were a second pair of doors, these ones silver with words carved upon them:

 ** _Enter, stranger, but take heed_**  
_**Of what awaits the sin of greed,**_  
_**For those who take, but do not earn,**_  
_**Must pay most dearly in their turn.**_

 ** _So if you seek beneath our floors_ **  
_**A treasure that was never yours,**_  
_**Thief, you have been warned, beware**_  
_**Of finding more than treasure there.**_

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

Two goblins bowed them through the silver doors- Hagrid’s hand on his shoulder kept Harry from attempting to bow back, which was just as well because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to decide on which to bow to _first_ and would probably have fallen trying for both at the same time- that led to a vast, marble hall. Hundreds of goblins were sitting in high stools behind a _very long_ counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these

Hagrid took them to the counter, "Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, Sir?" the goblin questioned, tone uninterested.

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of number- this caused the goblin to wrinkle its nose in distaste.

Harry turned to look at the goblin to the right weighing rubies, watching Hagrid through the corner of his eye. _Why does he have my family’s key? Who had it before? I thought part of this would be re-claiming my family’s vault through a blood test or something._

It wasn’t a _bad_ thing, certainly not a malicious one given Harry would be getting money to buy his school things all the same, but it was a bit _off_ . _Maybe a close friend of my parents had the  key- a copy?- and they gave it to Hagrid when they found he was getting me? But...why wouldn't_ they _come? Surely it would have been better?_

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin and, once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked, mentally keeping track of the key. Keeping it would be useful, and it’d be interesting to know if Hagrid would try taking it back- Harry had only ever tried pickpocketing Dudley (which wasn’t really a test given Dudley wasn’t the smartest) but he’d attempt Hagrid for the key.

The Dursleys could be temperamental, knowing he’d have insurance incase they threw him out...that would be... _good_.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them and Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised to find they were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor, when Griphook whistled a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them which they climbed in- Hagrid with some difficulty- before they were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages; Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

“How does it know where to go?” he asked.

Griphook didn’t look at him when saying, “Bank secret.”

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open; once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

By then, Hagrid looked very green and, when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry's- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag; mostly gold and silver coins but also the bronze knuts Harry used to pay the owl.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed which made the air colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

 _That,_ Harry thought as he settled back into his seat, stomach churning, _Was a bad idea._

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least- but at first he thought it was empty but then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor.

Hagrid went for the vault, the package really, and Harry looked at Griphook, quietly asking, “Can I have my vault key?”

The goblin gave him a sharp-eyed look, likely noting how he hadn’t asked until Hagrid- who was leaning to pick up the package- was gone, but gave him the key all the same. Harry knelt as if he were tying his shoe, tucked the key into his left shoe- foot wriggling a bit until he could feel the key pressed against the bottom of his foot- then tugged at the laces before standing up.

Harry found Griphook watching him, eyes terribly keen and focused.

“W-what’s the exchange rate of wizard money to muggle money?” Harry asked, stumbling a bit verbally at the start.

“Five Pounds to a Galleon.” the goblin answered shortly.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid, walking past them to climb into the cart.

“Can I exchange some of this to muggle money?” Harry asked once the cart took off, Hagrid groaned.

“How much?” Griphook grunted.

Harry squinted at his bag, trying to recall how much he put in- he wasn’t sure but he knew that he and Hagrid put two handfuls of each coin in, save for Knuts which only got a single handful, so he figured it was _a lot_ \- and said, “Um. Forty...Galleons..?”

 _Forty Galleons, with Five Pounds to One Galleon, is Two-Hundred Pounds,_ Harry thought, _it was a lot of money- more then I’d ever held, or at least more_ muggle _money then I’d ever held- but there some bookstores I want to check out and I can_ finally _get clothes that fit so it’s worth it._ He decided, _And what’s extra can be used for food._

 _I could buy new-_ expensive- _things,_ Harry mused, gazing absently as things whizzed past their speeding cart. _Well, the books can be secondhand and likely the telescope, but the uniform will be new and the trunk- I should also get a messenger bag or something to carry stuff around easier. And extra notebooks,_ he thought back to the list of supplies, _there are eight textbooks so I’ll probably need eight notebooks, ten should be fine- more if there’s back to school sales._

 _Will I need a lunch box?_ Harry wondered suddenly as the tunnel gradually grew brighter, _It’s a boarding school so they’ll be providing food but...no, wait, how long would food keep in a wizard’s lunchbox and how_ much _would fit? Can I just store food there and never have to worry about misse-_

“Money?” Griphook prompted as the cart jerked to a stop.

Harry thought about fishing out forty coins from the- obviously larger on the inside- bag and handed it over with a simple, “Here. And, uh, cany the muggle money be in a separate bag?”

The goblin _stared_ at him for a moment before tossing the bag to another goblin, “Ranarr, Forty Galleons to Muggle Money, it goes into a separate bag.”

The goblin, who looked both shorter and skinnier then Griphook, nodded and scurried off as Harry watched Hagrid laboriously climb out of the cart, making aborted noises that made him think the man was going to throw up. “Um, is there a bathroom he can use…?”

“There,” the goblin pointed to a set of doors that had the male/female sign on them, “See me at the counter when he done.”

Harry proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes feigning deafness as Hagrid lost the sausages they ate earlier. Five minutes after that, they were stumbling outside and blinking at the sunlight.

“Look, that shop sells trunks,” Harry pointed at the small building squeezed between the bank and a _Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions_. “We should go there.”

Hagrid squinted, “Yeah, that’s prob’ly best.” then he looked at Harry, “Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

Even after the... _purge_ , the man looked sickly so Harry said, “It’s fine, if I finish first then I’ll just go next door for my uniform.”

Harry entered _Sorcerers’ Storages & Enchanted Spaces _alone, an echoing ring heralding his entrance and garnering the attention of the wizard- short, stocky with a crooked nose, bushy mustache and dark hair that was greying- sitting at a counter. “Ho? What can I do for you?”

“I need a trunk and a bag.” Harry hesitated as the man got up and asked, “Do you also sell things to store food?”

“Sure do, boyo.” the wizard told him, waving at him as the man passed Harry on his way to the left side of the store. “We’ll do a circuit, trunk first. Any idea what you want or you fine with the standard Hogwarts Student Trunk?”

Harry had to take two steps for every one of the man’s but it was better then with Hagrid. “What’s the Hogwarts Student Trunk?”

“They’re rectangular with a single hand at a width of twenty-one inches and height of fifty-one inches,” the wizard said, stopping to point at the wall of- presumably Hogwart Students’- trunks stacked like brown bricks. “They have an expanded inside that’s large enough to hold seven years worth of school supplies _including_ broomsticks and Quidditch gear. They’ve got three latches but not much in the way of locks- students don’t really need them- and the Hogwarts’ coat of arms on it, they also display the owner’s initials once purchased as all our trunks do. This time of year they’re on sale of ¼ off.”

Harry took a moment to think about it but the comment of locks did him in, “No, I want something that locks properly and I live with muggles so a way for it to go unnoticed by them.”

“Three ways we can do that,” the wizard told him, starting to walk along the wall of Hogwarts trunks. “One is to have a knob that will let you switch it to appear like a normal, muggle trunk- contents and all. Another is to make it self-shrinking when you tap it with a wand. The last is to have a Muggle-Repelling Charm on it to keep muggles from looking too closely- like the Leaky Cauldron has.”

Harry recalled how people didn’t even _look_ at the pub and said, “The last two.” then asked, “Can I have a password lock?”

“Verbal or inputted?” the wizard asked as they walked passed three different stacks of trunks (and various tents on display on their other side).

“Verbal.” he decided after a moment. “Can I have two compartments? One link the Hogwarts’ trunk but the second larger- like field size?”

They stopped at a stack of trunks near the end of the wall, Harry could see that the back wall had various small bags and different sized-shaped-styled boxes from where they were. The wizard raised his wand, that had been held limply in his left hand, and _levitated a trunk down_.

“Your initials will appear here,” the man told Harry, rapping the center of one of the smaller sides (the one that _wasn’t_ being used to stand it up) of the trunk. “This’ll be where you tap your wand, once to return to regular size and twice to shrink- it shrinks to the size of a Chocolate Frog Card.”

….Harry was going to assume that it wasn’t any different in size or shape then regular playing cards ( _‘Chocolate **frog** cards’ _a part of him mouthed internally in disbelief, _is that chocolate cards with frogs or chocolate frogs with card designs?_ ).

“We’ll add your password to the lock once you buy it,” the wizard said, shrinking the trunk- which _was_ similar to a regular playing card- and tucking it into his pocket before moving to stop at the ceiling-high wall of a mix of boxes, bags, bottles, bowls, cups, teapots and even _plates_ . “The bowls, teapots, cups and plates are really only used for parties and feasts- they fold space so that, after you’ve put food (or drink) in them, they _seem_ never ending and they keep the food (or drink) at the exact temperature they entered in. The bottles do much the same except they can also either heat up or cool down it’s contents; say you use _Aguamenti_ to fill it with water but you want to drink cold water or you need hot water for something, these would do it.”

“Oh, can I get two of those then? The smaller sized ones.” Which were about the size of the average water bottle sold in vending machines and floated by the man’s head with the flick of the wand. “I want to store more food though, like weeks worth of food,” Harry hesitated a beat but added, “Since I’m going to Hogwarts, I want to load up on homemade food and muggle snacks so I’ll have them at school.”

The wizard nodded, “Since you won’t be able to refill your stock until the holidays.”

“Exactly,” He smiled as if his stomach hadn’t dropped at the mention of holidays- at the implication that he’d be returning to the Dursleys during them. “So I want to be able to keep them hot, frozen, refrigerated or room temperature as needed.”

Another wand flick had four boxes hovering before them, “These three,” the three smaller ones- a rusty red, night blue and boring brown- floated to the left as an indicator, “Will do the trick; red for hot, brown for normal while blue has two side- right for frozen and left for simply cool. This one,” The larger, grey-ish box bobbed. “Is all three in one.”

“The three.” Harry decided and the large one went back on the shelves while the three joined the bottles floating by their heads.

They moved on, walking past wardrobes, dressers, desks, bedside tables, shelves and bookcases then a variety of boxes used for moving or storing things (one dresser, one bookcase and three black boxes joined the things floating around them) before slowing down to walk down the wall opposite of the trunks. This one full of a large variety of bags; there were pouches, satchels, purses, baby bags and so on to even just _sacks_.

Harry was kind of overwhelmed looking at it.

“The satchels are on sale since students tend to use them to carry their things around,” the man offered when he failed to say anything. “They have an adjusting strap to act like a courier bag for broom rides.”

He smiled, thankful. “One of those, please, and that’ll be all.”

“Alright, let's head back to the counter.” the wizard said before heading off at a brisk walk, satchel added to the things floating behind them.

The man settled at a seat at the counter and Harry walked to the opposite side when indicated, after a little bit- that included muttering and the objects whirling to be displayed in front of the man briefly- the other said, “That’ll be fifty-six Galleons, ten Sickles and seven Knuts.”

It took a bit- Harry accidentally opened his muggle money bag and then had to count out the correct amount of coins each- but when he handed over the required amount, the trunk was laid, full-sized, on the counter with the latches displayed to him.

"Press your thumb to the lock at on the center latch,” the wizard said and Harry did so, “Now you have to say _Collovox_ [[1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9527516/chapters/21602342#1)] then your password, whatever you say until you remove your thumb will be the password- afterward you won’t need to touch it to unlock. If you want to reset the password, you press there again, say the current password then repeat this process. Also,” he added as an afterthought, “It locks automatically when it closes, which of the side latches you undo first decides which compartment you open- left for field, right for Hogwarts.”

“ _Collovox._ ” Harry said, shivering slightly as _something_ trickled up his thumb, hand, arm all the way to his throat. “ _‘What's the point of magic to begin with if I can't use it to protect my friends.’_ ” He quoted before removing his thumb.

Harry looked up and found the wizard staring at him, startled looking and curious. “Can you help me put my things inside?”

Five minutes later, he was dragging his brand new dark purple- initials (added after his things were settled into the top compartment by placing his hand on it and the man muttering a spell) in silver to match the latches and buckles- trunk to find Hagrid waiting. [[2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9527516/chapters/21602342#2)]

“Let me get tha’,” Hagrid said, easily lifting the trunk with one hand. “We best be get yer uniform now.”

A blond boy, whose nose wrinkled in distaste at them, pushed past them on their way in, leaving as they entered and, honestly, Harry wasn’t sad to see the boy go- even if he _would_ have liked talking to a wizard his age.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. “Hullo, Hagrid.” She greeted then turned to him, “Hogwarts, dear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” he nodded, obediently stepping onto a footstool when told before turning to Hagrid. “What’s Quidditch?”

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know - not knowin' about Quidditch!" Hagrid said, shaking his head. "It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like - like soccer in the Muggle world - everyone follows Quidditch - played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules."

Madam Malkin chimed in, “It’s a really big sport for the Wizarding World, there’s the Quidditch World Cup is an international league held every four years then there’s the British and Irish Quidditch League with it’s thirteen teams. I follow the Appleby Arrows myself and, of course, am a fan of the Holyhead Harpies- the Harpies is an all girl team.” She explained when he looked lost.

“An’ Hogwarts has the Quidditch House Cup.” Hagrid added.

Madam Malkin nodded, “Oh, yes, it’s not a professional league but team scouts go to the last few games of the year to look for new members in the Seventh Years and find which of the younger years they should keep an eye on as a potential member.”

“What do you mean by _‘house’_?” Harry wondered, filled with a sudden image of Hogwarts being a suburb of houses that were dedicated to this ‘quidditch’ and other magical things.

It was Hagrid who spoke first, "School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

“Now see here, Hagrid,” Madam Malkin scowled suddenly, the giant looked startled. “There’s no need to be putting that kind of nonsense into the boy’s head!” She looked at him, face softening. “These days _everyone_ has opinions of the Hogwarts Houses- be they good or ill- but don’t you go letting them affect your opinion, there’s _never_ a good reason for prejudice-” She broke off to scowl at Hagrid once more, “I’d have thought _you_ of all people would understand _that_ , Hagrid.”

Harry had the dubious pleasure of Hagrid flushing red and shift about like a sheepish child caught doing what they weren’t supposed to be doing, muttering an excuse before heading outside.

Madam Malkin nodded, satisfied with her scolding, before looking at him once more, “When you go to Hogwarts, the first thing that’ll happen is that you’ll be sorted into different Houses- now don’t you ask _how_ you’ll be sorted because that’s a secret that you’ll be finding out yourself. There are four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. _None of them are better or worse then the others._ ”

She waited a moment then went on, “Each House has their own set of values; Gryffindor values courage, bravery, nerve, and chivalry while Slytherin values ambition, cunning, leadership, and resourcefulness- these two Houses are rivals so you’ll be hard pressed to find any saying something good of the other. There’s Hufflepuff who values hard work, patience, justice, and loyalty with Ravenclaw who values intelligence, creativity, learning, and wit- the other two’s rivalry tends to push them to the sidelines but they are just as good a House to be sorted into.”

“If fact, _I’m_ a Ravenclaw  [[3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9527516/chapters/21602342#3)].” Madam Malkin winked. “Houses each have their own set of colors and a mascot,” She went on, “Slytherin has silver and green along with a snake as their mascot, Ravenclaw has blue and bronze with an eagle mascot, Hufflepuff has yellow and black with a badger mascot, Gryffindor has gold and red with a lion mascot.” She paused then added, “I suppose you can also tie them to elements; Gryffindor to fire, Hufflepuff to earth, Ravenclaw to air and Slytherin to water.”

Then, with seemingly great passion, she went on, “The Houses are balancers to one another, they need each other; what is bravery without loyalty, ambition without hard work, learning without patience or nerve without intelligence and cunning without creativity? _What is leadership without chivalry?_ ”

“Anything else, dear, only you’re finished but Hagrid seems to not have returned after my scolding.” Madam Malkin said, seeming for satisfied and sheepish.

Harry, whose head was spinning by this information (not that he wasn’t happy about it, he’d always like Hagrid for getting him away from the Dursleys and introducing him to magic but none of the man’s answers were really...satisfying in detail or depth), blinked. “Um, can I see my winter cloak?”

“The inside will change red, yellow, blue or green depending on which house you’re sorted into.” Madam Malkin told him as the plain black garb floated before him.

Harry had a sudden though, excitement rushing through him- it wasn’t _necessary_ , not like the extra storage he had gotten, but it wasn’t against the rules either. After all, the supply list only specified the robes to be _plain_.

“Can you make it so it looks like it’s made of feathers and another that looks like fur and it’s hood look as if it has wolf ears? Can both of them have the inside feel really soft, like fur?” Harry had touched a fur coat before, once when Aunt Petunia had told him to hang up a guest’s coat, and he had _loved_ how _soft_ it felt.

Madam Malkin blinked at him, her assistant- who’d been organizing some fancy-looking robes on a rack- stared, then suddenly she lit up. “Oh, yes! That would be interesting- people rarely ask for elaborate cloaks and never quite like you have. Now, I’d need to alter how they look first- starting with the ears..”

In a whirlwind of muttering, commands to the assistant and spell work, Harry watched the witch transform two plain black cloaks into works of art.

The ‘wolf’ cloak looked to be made entirely of black fur though Madam Malkin said that there would be streaks and highlights of color depending on his house and had a glinting silver _fang_ as a fastener with two black-furred ears that- after a quick question- would move depending on the wearer's emotions. A series of question- on both sides- had made it so that, when he moved, it'd sound like a wolf and if he pulled the hood down low enough, it'd transform into a realistic-looking wolf head that acted like a mask from his nose up and made expressions plus noises corresponding to the ears.

Harry was very impressed when he tried it on, pulled the hood down to manifest the mask and ran while thinking angry thoughts at a mirror offered; the result was a snarling wolf, ears pulled back and rumbling growl as it sounded like a pack of wolves hunting and pursuing prey. The mirror in question _shrieked_ but the two witches applauded at the display.

The feather cloak looked to be made as black, glossy, raven feathers ("When you're sorted, a secondary color will be visible beneath the black feathers, vibrant and shifting what can be seen with each move you make." Madam Malkin told him) with a silver talon fastening; like the wolf cloak it's hood had two states, since they had decided that a hood of feathers looked kind of silly, wearing it normally would make it seem as if Harry had feathers in his hair. Pulling it down enough turned the hood into a raven head that's eyes (both cloaks' eyes, eye-holes technically but they looked like animal eyes, were black at the moment but would change color depending on his sorting) glowed or dimmed depending on his mood.

This time, when Harry did his test run, the eyes- temporarily turned blue to show the effect- glowed brightly like a simmering fire while the wingbeats and shrieks- one louder and more piercing then the rest- of an angry flock sounded.

"They're both waterproof, of course, and I do believe that glistening water droplets will make them all the more striking- I dare say my old House will be quite jealous of that raven cloak." Madam Malkin said. “Well, what do you think? They’re quite striking if I do say so myself.”

“They’re _perfect_.” Harry breathed, idly petting the inner feathers of the cloak he still word and reveling in the fur-like softness.

Madam Malkin beamed.

Harry shook himself, “Um, can you help me put them- all my stuff really- in my trunk?”

His password got startled then, from the Madam, sharply approving looks and it was quick work to into the normal then field compartment (after realizing it’d be difficult to get at the inside of a dresser and the bookcase if left in the first and relocating them to the second), which was an _actual field_ , and settle all his things though Madam Malkin had shooed her assistant off to get a coat rack for the cloaks.

(“Don’t worry about rain ruining your things, dear,” Madam Malkin had told him after the assistant, cloaks floating behind her. “The weather will stay nice and calm- _sunny_ \- unless you change it, you're just starting so you’ll be needing nametags…” She’d mumbled, a series of wand flicks had the drawers open, a tag with _Harry Potter_ written on the robes’ breast appear before the drawers closed once more.

Madam Malkin had smiled at him, “If you ever have any questions, feel free to owl me a letter, it’d be practically _illegal_ for a Ravenclaw like myself to not share my knowledge with someone new to the Wizarding World.” She softened, “It doesn’t have to be just questions, Harry, you can write to me if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t even know you name.” Harry had blurted, flushing.

She had laughed, then, “My name is Madelyn Malkin but everyone knows me as _Madam_ Malkin,” She winked, “Madam is kind of a title to go with the job when a Malkin takes over- it’s a family business see, usually from mother to daughter though it can go to nieces or cousins if there’s no daughter to pass it to or they don’t want to take over.”)

Harry walked out thirty galleons lighter despite the various sales due to his cloaks but he had decided that they were his Christmas gift to himself for this and the next one.

Hagrid was waiting for him outside, shooting the shop a glance and flushing when Madam Malkin waved at him cheerily, and he was holding an owl- it was  a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with its head under its wing. “I remembered I hadn’t gotten yeh a present, I decided to get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'. It’s a girl."

“I-...” Harry faltered, wide eyed at the animal. “ _Thank you!_ ”

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Now, we should get yer books.”

“Do they _need_ to be new or can I get used?” Harry asked, exchanging his trunk for the owl cage to hold.

Beetle eyes blinked at him, “Well, yeh don’ _need_ new books an’ there’s only the one book tha’s new so yeh _can_ get the others used. Most people jus’ don’ wanna.”

“Then let's do that.” Harry nodded.

Twenty minutes later, they were exiting a secondhand bookshop next to a building that read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ with all Harry’s schoolbooks save for _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble _with_ a copy- old and worn- of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ that Hagrid had insisted he _had_ to read.

“We’ll go to  Ollivanders now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand- since it’s right there.” Hagrid said, “An’ we’ll get the rest of yer things as we make our way back down the alley.”

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Hagrid must have jumped because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

Harry whirled- seeing an old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop- and hissed, “ _ Don’t do that you’re going to give me a heart attack! _ ”

"Ah yes," said the man, ignoring his hiss though he seemed a bit amused. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he wouldn’t, he liked his personal space and those silvery eyes were  _ creepy _ .

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. Harry stood very still though he wanted to jerk away.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now- Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er- well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

He did so, feeling foolish,  but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-"

Harry tried- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination -holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry tried it, it felt a bit warm in his hand and it shot a few sparks but they swiftly withered away and died.

“No, not quite, I’d thought…” Ollivander muttered snatching it away for another. “Here, 10 ¾" of English Oak with a phoenix feather core- slightly springy.”

Harry took the wand, he felt a sudden warmth in his fingers- faster and warmer then the previous wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of vivid purple sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. 

Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good.”

They paid seven galleons for the wand and left to hurriedly buy their other things, though they did take the time to buy ice cream (Harry got a fudge-covered chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream )- at the end of it, Harry peeked into his money bag to find that there was only a single galleon left with a handful of sickles and knuts.

The Leakey Cauldron was empty when they went through but there were still plenty of people bustling about in the muggle side so Harry didn’t feel bad about making a bee-line for the nearest bookstore though Hagrid asked, “Harry?”

“I just want to get a few books!” Harry insisted, leaving Hagrid shifting by the door with his trunk and owl- being eyed by the cashier- as he scurried between the isles of bookcases.

He darted between the isles and the counter, building up a respectable stack of books, until he finally returned with the first book-  _ First Test _ \- of a series by Tamora Pierce that left him with twenty-one books.

“That all?” The cashier asked dryly.

Harry flushed a bit, “Yeah.”

“Let’s see, the first ten volumes of  _ Fairy Tail _ , the first five of  _ Fruits Basket _ , the first three of  _ One Piece _ …” the girl muttered, scanning the books swiftly and stacking them into a bag with practiced ease. “Then the  _ Daughter of the Lioness _ series and  _ First Test _ by Tamora Pierce...that leaves your total at...”

_ 112.03  _ the register displayed and Harry dug through his muggle money bag, which had been tucked into his left pocket, to pay- to the girl’s raised eyebrows.

Harry, remembering that his trunk was basically charmed for non-magicals to not see, promptly placed his books inside- though he did mutter his password and used Hagrid as a shield since he put his money in it and then shrunk it to carry. He wasn’t sure if the girl had even noticed the trunk in the first place, but he still acted as if Hagrid carried it out the store.

Harry didn’t really talk as they journeyed back to the Dursleys; he was tired from a busy day, mulling over all the information he’d gotten today, upset with the fact of his fame  _ and _ that he was returning to the Dursleys.

But, when they went to get a quick bite to eat while they waited for the train, Hagrid said, "You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet."

“It’s been a long day,” he said eventually, adding, “And...I'm famous for something I can't even remember. They’re expecting great thing but I don’t know anything about magic.”

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile. "Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts - I did - still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Harry onto the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me.... See yeh soon, Harry."

The train pulled out of the station and between one blink and the next, Hagrid had gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: There’s a door-locking spell so I took the “collo” for ‘lock’ and added “vox” for ‘voice’. ([x](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9527516/chapters/21602342#bk1))
> 
> 2: This is basically 1500 words of Harry getting a trunk (and stuff), something we don’t really see in canon. ([x](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9527516/chapters/21602342#bk2))
> 
> 3: Madam Malkin was going to be a Hufflepuff but then I connected intelligence to integrity and _the willingness to seek the truth of things no matter what_. ([x](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9527516/chapters/21602342#bk3))


	4. Realization: IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wizard or not, he was just Harry.
> 
> “C’mon,” Dennis said, tugging on his hand and dragging him from his thought, Colin seemed to be doing the same for their father. “Ice cream!”
> 
> It was when Harry was accepting an ice cream sandwhich that it hit him, the brothers’ father was the milkman who delivered the eggs that had contained twenty-four letters to Hogwarts in them. Harry opened his mouth- to say _what_ he didn’t know- before closing it as he recalled that the man probably didn’t know about magic and to inform him would be _illegal_.

IV: Countdown to Hogwarts

  _August 3 - 31, 2010_

* * *

* * *

 

**Madam Malkin,**

**_Are quills really necessary? Will I get in trouble for using a pen or pencil?_ **

**Harry**

**_Ps. My owl Kel._ **

**_Pps. Her full name- titles included- is:  Daughter of the Moon and Queen of the Night the Lady Skyhunter Keladry of the Southern Isles Who Dances Before the Stars. ._ **

**_Ppps. ..I got a bit carried away naming her._ **

It was his first letter Harry had written, written in pen and on half a notepad paper- the notepad in question had been bought during his shopping spree of _normal_ school supplies) then tied to Kel’s leg with a piece of string, and he wished he’d written in pencil so he could have erased the second two postscripts.

(Non-magicals _definitely_ did back to school sales better the magicals, Harry had gotten: a notepad, notebooks, lined paper, printing paper, index cards, folders, pens, pencils, sharpeners, erasers, highlighters, scissors, a calculator, a reading light, tape, paper clips, pencil case, sticky notes and flags _and_ he still had regular money left over.

True, it wasn’t as much as he’d hoped to use for food and he couldn’t really buy a new set of clothes like he’d wished, but _still_ . Comparatively to how much shopping for magical school things had cost, remembering that he started with less money for non-magical things, magicals practically sold a _limb_ for their things.)

He was actually kind of surprised when the Lady Skyhunter returned with a letter- parchment- tied- a dark blue ribbon- to her leg on the third.

 **Harry,** he read the neat, slanted writing after a moment of staring at the elegant curves.

**_Firstly, you don’t need to refer to me as ‘Madam Malkin’ when you write me, it’s perfectly alright for you to address me as Madelyn or Miss Madelyn if you prefer._ **

**_Secondly, yes quills are necessary. You’ll need them for testing and homework- the same can be said for parchment- but you_ ** **can** **_use muggle things to take notes. I recommend you start practicing now so that you don’t get points deducted for sloppy homework when at Hogwarts- also, muggleborn students have complained about cramps so, again, practice now before you loaded with work you_ ** **have** **_to use it for._ **

**_Thirdly...yes, you did get a bit carried away in naming your owl but I believe she bears the name- and titles- well, she truly is a “Queen of the Night”._ **

**Madelyn Malkin**

**_Ps._ ** **How** **_exactly did she get the name?_ **

Harry stared, eyes darting around the parchment with it’s neat writing that was at a slight angle- which made sense as there weren’t any lines like with normal paper to keep the writer straight when writing- and a scarce scattering of tiny black dots where ink dripped onto it, until Kel called for his attention.

The owl’s head tilted and she did a little side-hop, eyes firmly on the letter as she let out a warbling coo.

 _Do magical animal have an expanded vocal range to go with expanded intelligence?_ Harry wondered briefly before refocusing on the owl’s - implied - question. “It’s nothing. I just….it’s the first letter someone wrote to _me_ ,” he said. “Not because they _had_ to but because they _wanted_ to. It’s...nice.”

It really was, having someone to talk to about magic and the odd world he’d been thrust into. It wasn’t that Harry disliked Hagrid- no, he’d always be fond of the giant if only for the fact that he introduced Harry to magic let alone told him the truth about his parents _and_ gave him the means to get away from the Dursleys, even if it were only temporary- _but-_

He blinked, “Should I write to Hagrid also?” he asked his owl.

Kel, despite being unable to talk, seemed to give him an affirming hoot (idly, Harry thought he should look up her breed of owl).

“Alright, I guess you can just deliver to whoever is closer first.” He nodded, grabbing an extra paper and starting to write both adults. “Hey, do you think Hagrid will send me pictures of Hogwarts if I ask?”

The Lady Skyhunter, probably sensibly, offered no opinion.

✦

On the seventh of August, Harry went sent to Mrs. Figg's house while the Dursleys went to visit a clinic (as Dudley still had the pig tail Hagrid had given him) and, in the time between his first letter and being dropped off at Mrs. Figg’s, Harry had written three more letters- receiving two back from Miss Madelyn and one from Hagrid.

Miss Madelyn’s letters had been full of little bits of advice ( _‘you should leave early if you don’t want to be late on your first day’_ ) and things about the Wizarding World  (' _there are other magical schools such as Ilvermorny, Durmstrang and Mahoutokoro’_ ) along with little things about her day ( _‘Melissa- you remember my assistant, right?- got herself a boyfriend_ ).

Hagrid’s letter was equally light-hearted but almost entirely about Hogwarts, it’s creatures and staff with a scattered mentioning of Harry’s parents. Apparently Hagrid had asked one of the staff members - the teacher for ‘Muggle Studies’ who apparently owned a camera - to take pictures for him so Harry had various pictures of Hogwarts; the Great Hall, the Headmaster’s Office and various hallways but also air shots (apparently from broom and rooftops) and _many_ pictures of the grounds along with various creatures (which, really, made sense with Hagrid being the _Grounds_ keeper).

Harry's letter to Hagrid had been sent off with Kel that morning, thankfully before Aunt Petunia had barged into his room and informed him that he'd be spending the day with Mrs. Figg.

Meeting with Mrs. Figg was kind of… _awkward_ , at least for a little while.

Mrs. Figg had never been _mean_ to Harry, she was in fact the kindest adult towards him after the Dursleys had convinced everyone that he was some kind of troublemaker, but she’d made sure to keep a careful distance. And the time he’d spent here before, when they’d watched cartoons together, had seemed to have broken whatever barrier that had been between them.

Or, at least Harry had thought so until Aunt Petunia dropped him off and he was shooed off to the living room once more as Mrs. Figg hurriedly left the room.

 _Well,_ he thought glumly as he idly petted the cat that had claimed his lap, _that’s disappointing. I’d thought…_

Well. That he’d be able to have an amiable relationship – like he had with Hagrid and Miss Madelyn – with someone that he could talk to in person. That, when he’d inevitably have to come back to the Dursleys during the holidays, he’d have someone who wouldn’t hate having him around- someone who could, possibly, be called a _friend_.

 _At least I’ll have Kel,_ Harry consoled himself, finally reaching for the remote.

“Here we are,” Mrs. Figg said as she bustled back into the room carrying a box. It was a rather large one, one big enough that he was surprised that she’d been able to carry it so easily- if not for potential weight then just because the size made it awkward to hold.

It was, also, in wrapping paper with a purple bow on it.

“…Mrs. Figg..?” he asked hesitantly, wondering if he should allow himself to hope or if that’d be greedy after Hagrid had already gotten him a cake _and_ Kel.

She smiled at him, “I know it’s late, but I haven’t seen you before now to give this to you. Happy Birthday Harry.”

“I…” he swallowed anything he might have _attempted_ to say and grabbed the present.

It was surprisingly light and, after shooing the cat out of his lap, took up his entire lap and then some. The bow came off easily but he hesitated a beat at the wrapping paper, he’d seen Dudley open present before by tearing the wrapping paper but…Harry didn’t want to. Kel was an amazing present and he _loved_ her, but she wasn’t really a proper present that he’d always dreamed about.

Harry slowly peeled the paper from the box, careful not to tear it, and meticulously folded it when it was completely detached before placing it next to him. He glanced at Mrs. Figg before he opened the box, and he caught sight of a kind of sad yet _angry_ look on her face before it went back to a cheerfully patient expression and he wondered. _Why did she look like that?_

The box held three separate boxes along with three more wrapped presents, he pulled out the largest of the boxes which was something about solar power.

“I asked my son to help me pick out things and, well, I didn’t want you to get in trouble for using elec-tri-city,” Mrs. Figg said the word carefully, pronouncing it like one would a foreign word. _Which was a bit odd_ , Harry’s mind flashed to the trip to Diagon Alley and how Hagrid seemed to have trouble with ‘muggle things’, _and suspicious_. “So my son picked that out, he said you put it in the sunlight it’d make elec-tri-city and you could ‘plug in’ what you want.”

Harry nodded, taking out the next box that was a DVD player before the third which was a movie projector.

Mrs. Figg was silent until he’d unwrapped the three presents- DVDs of the movies, _How To Train Your Dragon, Spirited Away_ and _The Golden Compass_ \- then she said, “You enjoyed watching the telly and I thought, well, I couldn’t buy you one because I doubt you Aunt would be happy, but if I got you a projector like they use at the cinema then that’d be fine. Of course my son mentioned it’d be a bit more then that…”

Harry swallowed, silent, and Mrs. Figg wrung her hands, “Do you not like the movies? I can get others if you don’t but you like watching that dragon show and I remembered you telling me it was based off a movie and my son said if you like that you’d probably like the others…”

“It’s not-…” Harry stopped then said, as earnestly as he could, “ _Thank you_. I love it.”

Mrs. Figg lit up, “Oh. Oh, that’s good. I’m glad.”

“Can we watch it now?” Harry asked, eager to try his new present.

She nodded, “Oh, yes. Do you want to try out the projector-thing also?”

“ _Yes_.” He said fervently and Mrs. Figg laughed.

They wound up watching _How To Train Your Dragon_ on the wall in the guest room; it was _amazing_.

✦

Harry spent the days following his day with Mrs. Figg away from the house- being sure everything was packed in his trunk and taking the shrunken trunk with him- because the Dursleys were angered that the doctor they say couldn’t remove Dudley’s tail and Aunt Petunia refused to let Dudley leave the house with it present.

He took up his former routine that the Letters had interrupted and, on the first day, when he went to the park he was bombarded by one of the friends he’d made earlier.

“Where’ve you been?” Dean demanded as soon as he saw Harry.

Harry, who hadn’t thought he’d befriended the Londoner (Dean’s grandmother lived in Surrey so his family visited every summer) enough to cause such concern, startled a bit. “Oh, uh, my uncle took us on a trip and we didn’t get back until recently- we went by the ocean.”

“Oh,” Dean said, “Well, I’m glad you got back before my family left. It was close though, we’re leaving on the tenth!”

“Oh,” Harry mimicked, “I’m glad I came before you had to leave.”

Dean lifted his football, “You, Harry, owe me a football game for leaving me without an opponent!”

“Huh?” Harry blinked as he obediently followed his friend- _I have a friend my age,_ Harry thought with glee- to the grass area where they could kick the ball around. “I thought you had siblings.”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled a face, “But the twins, Aaron and Bailey, already went back to Uni and Cody called football a _‘kid game’_ .” This was said with great disbelief. “And the other three- Erica, Forrest and Gabe- are too young to actually _play_.”

Harry stared, “Did your parents…”

“Decide to make an alphabet out of our names,” his friend said, “ _Yes_. I don’t know if I’m embarrassed or not, at least when we write things we just have to put our letter. Now, let's play.”

The game ended, as they always did, with Harry on his back panting and Dean, victorious, sitting next to him, cheerfully talking about his family as he caught his breath. “-wants to become a doctor, a brain surgeon apparently, but Aaron is studying to be a lawyer. Cody’s been planning to work with computers ever since his second year in Secondary.”

“What do you want to do?” Harry cut in.

Dean started a bit but answered, “I want to be an artist- I really like drawing so i figured...What about you?”

“I dunno,” Harry frowned, “I never thought about it before…” Which was true, given he’d only been focused on _away from the Dursleys_ instead of what he’d be doing once he was away, plus the whole _you’re a wizard_ affected everything. “I like animals, so maybe something with them?”

They talked back and forth about animal-related careers they knew- which wasn’t much just veterinarian, zookeeper, trainers, wildlife sanctuary worker and the people who stop animal cruelty- until it was time for them to both head back to their houses.

The next day when Harry went to the park, Dean was carrying something wrapped in newspaper.

“Um.” Harry stared when the newspaper-wrapped thing was offered to him.

Dean flushed, “Well, it’s not actual wrapping paper, I know, but- well, I-”

“Thanks.” He cut the other off, taking the present and tearing the newspaper away to find a book. A _sketchbook_ to be specific, it had _‘Harry’_ written on the black cover in white and he opened it to find that there were already drawings in it.

“I thought that I could _make_ you something so I drew some things in it already,” Dean hastily added, “But I made sure there was still empty space for you to draw!”

The very first picture was of a cat laying on it’s side, face turned towards him with it’s yellow eyes opened and tail curled slightly into the air behind it. It was colored black, though there were parts that looked dark blue like the inside of it’s ears or edges of its fur, and there were _stars_ drawn on it’s fur- Harry even saw the _little dipper_ constellation.

Above it, in very nice cursive, was _Faithful the Cat_.

“My ma wrote that for me,” Dean explained, “I remember you talking about a cat who helped that lady knight who was actually a cat constellation- I still don’t get that- and I figured it’d be a good first picture.”

The next four were drawings of foxes, wolves, lions and a boa constrictor (“Since you talked about them when you mentioned going to the zoo,” Dean said).

The foxes were a trio of a red fox (laying down in the background, sleeping), an arctic fox (sitting in front of the red fox, hiding some of its side) and a fennec fox (which looked so tiny curled up in front of the red fox’s tail). The wolves were of a black and white wolf howling, the black standing up while the white one was sitting down next to it. The lions were also a duo, a walking mother lion carrying a lion cub in her mouth like Harry had seen Mrs. Figg’s cats carry their kittens.

The boa constrictor, though, is what made him pause, it was hanging on a tree branch and in a forest.

 _I hope he made it to Brazil,_ Harry thought briefly before moving on.

“Thank you,” Harry said once he was done- the rest were drawing of the three starters of the first three generations of pokemon with Eevee and Pikachu added- looking. “This is amazing.”

Dean grinned, “I’m glad you like them, you have no idea how difficult it was trying to finish before your birthday. It’s actually a good thing you weren’t here then, it gave me more time to finish off the pokemon and figure out how to do the stars on Faithful..”

A pause and Harry huffed, “Want to play a game of football?”

“ _Yes_.”

Harry came the next day despite knowing Dean would be leaving, and it was a good thing he did because Dean was waiting for him.

“Good, you're here!” Dean said, relieved. “We were supposed to leave already but I managed to convince Da to wait a bit more.”

They both paused, suddenly awkward in the reality of Dean leaving for London. Until Harry, who’d quite gotten used to writing letters, said, “Where do you live? I can mail you.”

“Yes,” Dean nodded before rattling off his address, “What’s yours?”

Harry hesitated a moment before giving Mrs. Figg’s address, he didn’t trust the Dursleys not to rip up the letter or to send back a mean one claiming to be him. “So...”

“So.” Dean agreed, glancing back when someone called his name- it was a teenager so likely his older brother, Cody- and blurted. “I’ll see you next year Harry.”

“Next year,” Harry agreed, the words sounding like a promise. “Bye, then.”

“Bye,” his friend said before walking to where his family was waiting, though he called back, “Next year Harry, don’t forget!”

Harry didn’t say anything, just waved until the car was out of sight before heading to Mrs. Figg’s house to inform her about his friend sending letters.

✦

Even though Dean had left, Harry had gone back to the park- though it wasn’t until August fourteenth that he worked up the nerve to visit with the knowledge no one would be waiting on him.

Evidently, he was wrong when the brothers, Colin and Dennis, bombarded him the moment they saw him.

“Where were you?” Colin asked, “Did you talk to Dean before he left? He said he had a present for you- we don’t but our dad, he’s over there, promised to get us all ice cream to celebrate next you came- did you get it?”

“We helped him!” Dennis, who was eight and two years younger then Colin, added. “We didn’t draw but we gave Dean ideas on what to draw when he was finished with the snake- did you really see the one that got free? Were you there when it got free?”

Harry raised a hand to stop them, feeling a little dizzy, “My uncle took us to the ocean for a surprise trip, I got back a few days ago. Yes I saw Dean before he left, he did give me my present- thanks for helping him. Yes I saw that snake and was there when it got free- no it didn’t bite anybody.” Harry thought back then added, “And your dad doesn’t have to get me ice cream.”

“It’s alright,” he started when another voice spoke and noticed that a man, obviously the brothers’ father, had came over. “My sons really wanted to do something special for your birthday, they seem quite taken with you.”

Harry flushed. It wasn’t that he’d really _did_ anything, sure he convinced Dean to let them play football with them, played the games they came up with occasionally and pushed Dennis on the swing once...but that wasn’t really something for their level of enthusiasm towards him.

Wizard or not, he was just Harry.

“C’mon,” Dennis said, tugging on his hand and dragging him from his thought, Colin seemed to be doing the same for their father. “Ice cream!”

It was when Harry was accepting an ice cream sandwhich that it hit him, the brothers’ father was the milkman who delivered the eggs that had contained twenty-four letters to Hogwarts in them. Harry opened his mouth- to say _what_ he didn’t know- before closing it as he recalled that the man probably didn’t know about magic and to inform him would be _illegal_.

Harry, after promising the brothers’, came back to the park the next day though he made sure to come earlier then the boys said they’d be there.

He did this for a very specific reason, to set up his present from Mrs. Figg without them seeing him unshrink his trunk. Part of Harry’s idea to set up the movie projector was because he wanted the chance to show off his present- since he couldn’t with the Dursleys and didn’t have the time for Dean- but the other was that he was tired, as he spent a bit too much time last night reading _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , and he was a bit scared of the thought of trying to keep up with them in his current state.

“Woah!” Dennis exclaimed as Colin investigated the movies, “This is the coolest! You got this as a birthday present?!”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “Did you decide, Colin?”

Colin nodded eagerly, holding out _Spirited Away_ , “This one! Mom talked about getting it once but hasn’t yet.”

It became a new routine, one that various other kids who went to the playground joined in- along with the adults or older siblings who brought them- and by the nineteenth, Harry was in charge of an impromptu outdoors movie theater.

Since Harry brought the movie projector, the others had unanimously decided that _they_ were in charge of bringing other stuff.

Colin and Dennis, along with a few mothers who took part, brought sheets and blankets so they wouldn’t be sitting on the floor along with old pillows for extra comfort. Originally, the brothers’ father brought snacks for them but then a few mothers got together and started bringing picnic baskets of snacks- crackers, fruits, vegetables, small sandwiches but also some candies and other junk food- which had the men (there was another father who brought his kid to the park, though he had a daughter named Sarah who was Dennis’ age) dragging iceboxes of drinks that consisted of water bottles, juice boxes and capri suns.

The other kids brought their favorite movies, though Harry had to hurriedly implement a schedule to prevent fights over whose was first and a rule of three a day depending on their length.

What made Harry really pleased, though, was when a teen- a nine year old named Jamie’s older brother- brought the first season of _Digimon_. Which, of course, had an older _sister_ bringing episodes of _Fruits Basket_ to show.

(After Harry had gotten his first letter from Dean - he made sure to swing by Mrs. Figg’s everyday to check and, luckily, was always given something to eat - he had sent back a letter explaining what was happening. Dean wrote that he was jealous of him and sad that he was missing it and that Harry better do the same next summer.)

It was because of this that Harry started thinking about his non-magical schooling, since the closer to the end of August it got the more everyone had started talking about heading back to school (he was kind of sad he couldn’t offer much beyond a ‘boarding school my parents went to’), and how he’d be able to keep up with it at Hogwarts.

Eventually, on the twenty-seventh, it bugged him enough to write to Miss Madelyn about it and what she wrote back was;

**_I know Ravenclaw muggle-borns tend to keep up with their muggle schooling but it’s entirely independent, they have their parents ask their schools for stuff for ‘distance education’ that the parents owl to their children. The children owl back work to their parents who turn it in to their teachers who in turn give the parents more work for their child and so on._ **

**_Hufflepuffs, however, have a different system where the older students teach the younger ones which might be your best bet if you don’t think your aunt and uncle will be comfortable owling you your work._ **

**_I don’t know if they- Hufflepuff House that is- do this for other houses but it can’t hurt to ask, they’re nice folk so the worst you’ll get is a ‘sorry no’._ **

**_Either that or you can ask your Head of House to arrange something._ **

✦

As was planned on the thirtieth, Harry got to the park early morning to set up everything and, by the time he was finished, Dennis and Colin were spreading out their giant sheets over the grass as their father and mother set up hot plates- the kind used to keep food warm at buffets- for the people who’d be bringing food.

It had been Dean’s idea, actually, for them to have a ‘last day of summer’ party and everyone, when Harry mentioned it, took to the idea with great enthusiasm.

Already there were families lugging pillows, blankets and cushions or containers of food or disposable things like plates and forks; Harry didn’t know how things were set up since it was the adults who had hashed out plans on who’d bring what to their ‘park party’. 

Jamie and his older brother arrived, carrying speakers- it became evident quickly that, while it worked for Harry and the Creeveys, the projector’s built in speakers weren’t loud enough for everyone and Jamie’s brother volunteered to bring his to use- and Harry quickly set about connecting them.

When Harry was done, he was faced with a grinning Dean.

“You- but- London!” Harry sputtered, staring at his friend.

Dean laughed, “When I heard you were going to do the party idea, I asked my ma if I could go and here I am! Look, there’s my family- everyone but the twins!” He said, pointing to a group of people spreading out a blue-white picnic blanket over the sheet. “Ma insisted on bringing food too, you’ll have to try it later!”

The next surprise, was Mrs. Figg showing up with a young couple and two children.

“This is my son, Adam.” Mrs. Figg introduced, “And his wife, Sally, with their children Maxwell and Samantha. Everyone, this is Harry.”

Mrs. Figg’s son’s hand engulfed his own, “It’s nice to meet the infamous Harry my mother keeps talking about.”

“ _ Infamous _ ,” he sputtered though he didn’t get an answer beyond a light-hearted laugh.

The third surprise, which might have been the  _ greatest _ surprise, was Miss Madelyn showing up.

“Of course I was going to come to your party,” Miss Madelyn laughed, “I’ve never seen a muggle movie so I hope you picked some good ones!”

It was then that Harry realized that everyone was waiting on  _ him _ , since very early on everyone came to the agreement that only  _ Harry _ would touch the equipment since the majority was his, and he scurried over to put on the first movie in the queue they’d worked out:  _ Howl’s Moving Castle _ .

After the last movie-  _ Pokémon: Lucario and the Mystery of Mew _ \- Harry said goodbye to Mrs. Figg’s family (Dean’s had left earlier, after  _ Digimon: The Movie _ ) and the Creeveys, then to Jamie and his brother as they left with the speakers.

“I’m glad I came,” Miss Madelyn told him from where she sat next to him on the grass. “It was an amazing experience, these kinds of things don’t happen in the magical worlds.”

Harry, who’d started putting things into his trunk after the witch cast some spell to keep them unseen, blinked, “Wizards don’t have parties?”

“Oh we do,” she told him, “But nothing like that. It’s either pre-planned balls with music and food and dancing or spontaneous parties- these are pretty frequent at Hogwarts- with whatever snacks and drinks people decided to bring. This was...something else.”

“That...sucks.” Harry decided, he may not have ever been to a party but their spontaneous neighborhood party was really fun. Harry had  _ never _ been this full before. “Did you like the movies?”

Miss Madelyn threw her head back and laughed, “Did I? They were amazing! I can’t believe muggles make things like that all the time! I really like the one with the lion, the kids and the wardrobe but I think the first one will always be my favorite since it’s my first one. You?”

“The Digimon movie,” Harry answered without hesitation. “It was really cool since we were able to watch the show before the movie- unlike with the pokémon movies.” He closed his trunk and paused before asking, “Um, where is Platform 9¾?”

She blinked at him, “Oh, right, I forget you’re like a muggle-born sometimes. Tell you what, if you come here at ten tomorrow, I’ll take you to the train myself.”

“Really?” Harry, who’d thought he’d have to ask they Dursleys and  _ hope _ they’d be kind enough to drop him off at the station, asked eagerly.

Miss Madelyn nodded, “Yeah, unless you think your family would prefer to drop you off?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “They have to take Dudley to the hospital for something, I was actually worried I wouldn’t make it.”

She frowned briefly then smiled, “Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow.” Harry agreed. 


End file.
